


Hallelujah

by shadow_prince, SlytherinSweetheart (Cherrypie62666)



Series: Wolfstar Song Fics [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Child Abuse, Come and enjoy the beautiful mess we've created, Gen, Get Together, Just to be safe, Life in song, M for heavy themes, M/M, MWPP, Marauders' Era, No Smut, Officially wolfstar (finally), Sirius Black's life, Song Lyrics, Song fic, Song: Hallelujah, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Writer collaboration, i promise you'll like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-08-26 01:03:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16671808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_prince/pseuds/shadow_prince, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherrypie62666/pseuds/SlytherinSweetheart
Summary: Sirius chewed on his lip thoughtfully, kicking his feet against the wood of his seat. “Wonder if I could convince them tonotput me in Slytherin.”James looked thoughtful, watching Sirius with more interest than most 11-year-olds spared for anything outside of Quidditch and sweets. “I bet we could, mate. If they try to, I’ll fight em off for you! You’re not a snake.”Soothed by James’ conviction, he relaxed and gazed out the window, for the first time daring to believe he could be something other than what his parents had said he was.⟡Sirius Black's 7 years at Hogwarts as vignettes to Hallelujah





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All aboard the angst train of Sirius Black's life *choo choo*
> 
> Since ya'll seemed to enjoy my last song fic so much I decided to give it another go. You can read it as canon or not. I promise a happy ending and no one dying, but please pay attention to tags, as there will be some heavy themes from Sirius' relationship with his family, hence the M rating. Not as much a relationship fic as exploring Sirius Black's life at Hogwarts, as inspired by the song Hallelujah (there are a lot of versions out there, if you don't know it already.)

_I heard there was a secret chord_  
_That David played and it pleased the Lord_  
_But you don’t really care for music, do ya?_  
_Well it goes like this the fourth, the fifth_  
_The minor fall and the major lift  
The baffled king composing Hallelujah_

 

⟡

 

Sirius Black was the first-born son of Orion and Walburga Black, and for as long as he could remember, he had been told all about the magic awaiting him at Hogwarts. He stood before the massive family tapestry, his father’s hands heavy on his shoulders as he reminded his son of all who came before him and the things they had achieved. Of the generations of Slytherins, masters in dark arts, cutthroat and cunning, reaching the top of their fields wherever they deigned to work.

He followed with his eyes the twisting branches of the tree, more interested in animals that danced below it than in the deeds by those upon it. That tapestry was so large it stretched across most of the drawing room, where Sirius was only allowed during lessons or by his father’s command. He was educated in the ways of pure blood supremacy and the art of giving orders, but it was the scorch marks burned into the fabric that stayed with him the most. Nevertheless, he learned quickly the punishment for curiosity of those black marks at the end of the drawing room’s fire poker.

Rather than becoming discouraged about being curious, Sirius became more careful and secretive in his curiosity. Covering his trail with intricately woven lies about his whereabouts and what he was reading. The approval it garnered granted him more freedom, which he used to sneak out of the house and meet children he never otherwise would have been allowed around. It quickly planted the seed of mistrust in his parents words and ideas, but left him unsure what that really meant.

All his father ever spoke of was Slytherin; he hadn’t even known there were other houses until his new books arrived after receiving his letter to Hogwarts. Late at night, when the rest of the house was fast asleep, Sirius would pull out his copy of _Hogwarts: a History_ and read in wonder about the options that awaited him.

He read about brave Gryffindor, swathed in crimson red and gold. Of the daring deeds of the students there and the chivalry of their namesake. He read about kind and loyal Hufflepuff, and the hard workers therewithin, understanding immediately why his father had never mentioned them before…  Ravenclaw’s eagle swooped across the pages, making Sirius envious of its freedom. He tapped the side of his face idly, skimming over the values of intelligence, creativity, and learning. He considered himself to be smart enough, but it wasn’t his top priority.

Sighing, he finally reached the twisting snake of Slytherin and the familiar green and silver. Ambitious, cunning, resourceful. It certainly took cunning and resourcefulness to avoid his parents and sneak out, to meet the friends he’d made in secret. And he had been told time and time again how ambitious the Blacks were. Sirius knew nothing of how Hogwarts decided where you belonged, but he doubted Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff would have him, and afterall, everyone in his family had been in Slytherin. With one last look of longing at the pacing lion of Gryffindor, he closed his book and stored it in his trunk.

Standing on the platform of 9 ¾ Sirius couldn’t focus on a single word his parents were saying. Last instructions of protocol and expectations went in one ear and out the other, and he would have been surprised he hadn’t been slapped yet if he hadn’t been too busy looking at all the different people and colours and owls in cages. Trunks of all sizes and shapes, some old some very new, were just as varied as the witches and wizards around him.

His mother grabbed him by the arm, pulling him hard against her and pinching the inside of his tender skin. He bit down on his lip to keep from yelping, listening as she hissed in his ear that he better not let them down and to stay with Bella on the train. Dropping her grip on him, she turned to join her husband in instructing their niece on their expectations of her for their heir, but Sirius didn’t stick around to hear it. His trunk had already been loaded so all that stood in his way of freedom was quietly slipping away and melting into the crowd.

The halls of the train were even more crammed than the platform had been, with bodies pressing into one another in way Sirius had never before experienced and was easily overwhelmed by. Between the yelling students, hooting owls, and meowing cats, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hide from the noise or contribute to it, just because he could.

Sirius knew that Bella would be in a car near the front, with other pure bloods who considered themselves practically royalty among their peers, so he turned toward the back. He was nearly at the last car when he found an empty compartment, slipping in and shutting the door behind him with a breath of relief. It was very cool being around other people, but all of the brushes against him and being _touched_ when he wasn’t used to it had left him trembling. He couldn’t seem to stop, so he sat in the corner closest to the window and drew his legs up on the seat with him, wrapping his arms around them.

 _Breathe in, breathe out._ He pictured his favourite piano song in his mind and breathed with the twelve beat pattern, calming himself down until he no longer trembled. He was sufficiently calm and looking out the window at the green landscape rushing past when the door opened again. In the doorway stood a boy who must have also been a first year, as he seemed a bit younger than Sirius himself.

“Mind if I join you?”

He shook his head no, waving his hand toward the empty seat across from him. The boys plopped down and held out his hand.

“James Potter.”

“Sirius Black,” he replied, taking the hand in his own.

James eyed him with curiosity, his head cocked to the side in question. “Why aren’t you up front with the rest of your lot?”

“I’m supposed to be, but snuck off before ole’ Bella could trap me.”

The boy grinned wide at that, “nice!”

When the trolley came by they both bought all kinds of snacks, piling them up between them. They passed the time playing exploding snaps and throwing Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans into each other’s mouths, and were just starting to get bored when an older student with an important looking badge pinned primly to his chest informed them they should change into their uniforms, as they would be arriving shortly.

Both shrugged into their dress shirts and robes, devoid of ties or identifying colour like the students outside their compartment all had.

“What house do you figure you’ll be in?” he asked James curiously.

“Gryffindor, I hope!”

“You hope, so you don’t know?”

“Who really knows until they tell you?”

“Who is they?”

“Well, I don’t know. They. At the school I guess.”

Sirius huffed, frustrated that he still don’t know much about this whole house thing. Not long ago he thought _everyone_ was a Slytherin and now he knew that wasn’t true, but had no idea how to go about NOT being a Slytherin! He was running out of time.

“Yes, but how do they _decide_?”

“Dunno!” James exclaimed, biting the head off a chocolate frog and talking through a mouth full of gooey chocolate, causing Sirius to cringe. “It’s a big secret, couldn’t get my mum and da to tell me. Even tried a fast-unto-death like Gandhi! But I just got scolded for being petulant and disrespectful to his memory. Well, and hungry. I also got hungry. So, that didn’t work.”

Sirius chewed on his lip thoughtfully, kicking his feet against the wood of his seat. “Wonder if I could convince them to _not_ put me in Slytherin.”

James looked thoughtful, watching Sirius with more interest than most 11-year-olds spared for anything outside of Quidditch and sweets. “I bet we could, mate. If they try to, I’ll fight em off for you! You’re not a snake.”

Soothed by James’ conviction, he relaxed and gazed out the window, for the first time daring to believe he could be something other than what his parents had said he was.


	2. Chapter 2

_Your faith was strong but you needed proof_  
_You saw her bathing on the roof_  
_Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew ya_  
_She tied you to a kitchen chair_  
_She broke your throne and she cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah_

 

⟡

 

The other first years ooh’d and aah’d as they crossed The Black Lake in a fleet of boats, lanterns flickering reflections on the water like fireflies. Sirius kept very still, eyes glued to the castle before them, his hands squeezed tightly into fists, resting on his thighs. His face was set in solemn focus like a soldier sailing to war, as if his sheer determination could alter the course of his fate. Around him there were murmurs, nervous energy rolling off the students in waves, but Sirius hardly noticed.

As they climbed out of the boats and made their way up the front steps, all conversations died off until there was silence in the face of an important looking witch. She waved them all into the entrance of the castle, circling them up so as to hear her better.

“Welcome, everyone, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am the deputy headmistress McGonagall. Shortly, we will enter the Great Hall where you will undergo the Sorting Ceremony and be placed into one of the four houses, which will be your homes for the next seven years that you spend here.”

Sirius tensed up, he hadn’t realised the decision would be made in front of the entire school! What happened if he tried to argue with them putting him in Slytherin? Bella or Cissa would speak up against him, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

Next to him, James gripped his shoulder, squeezing it tightly. Sirius looked over at him and nodded. Together, then. They followed McGonagall into the Great Hall. He spared a cursory glance toward the enchanted ceiling where the stars twinkled just as they had outside the castle. The front of the room had a long table where the professors all sat, and as they approached he saw a stool with a very large and very old brown had on it.

McGonagall motioned for them to stop while she continued up to stand next to the stool. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something, until suddenly, a mouth and eyes ripped open from the hat, and began to sing:

 

_“Another year begins anew_  
_With students to be placed_  
_So without further adieu  
Let us begin post haste!_

_Perhaps in brave Gryffindor_  
_Whose head I once sat upon_  
_You might learn the lion’s roar  
Spending nights in tower yon_

_Or Slytherin deep below_  
_In dungeons labyrinth protection_  
_The cunning walk in shadow  
Prizing blood of pure perfection_

_The wittiest of the lot_  
_Will go to Ravenclaw_  
_Where creativity of thought  
Is viewed with wondering awe_

_Hufflepuff, sweet and understanding_  
_Wanted all the rest_  
_Thus asked me find the wandering  
Give their loyal hearts the very best._

_Come new student_  
_Place me upon your head_  
_Of reading thoughts I’m fluent  
Don’t be filled with dread_

_Never have I made mistake_  
_Of where someone should go_  
_Now it’s your turn to partake  
Your house you will soon know!”_

 

When the hat finished its song, McGonagall unrolled a parchment. “Come forward when your name is called. Avery, Richard.”

The hat barely touched the boys head before it yelled out, “SLYTHERIN!”

Sirius’ eyes went wide, how did the hat know? Could he argue with a hat? He didn’t get much of a chance to prepare though.

“Black, Sirius.”

He squared his shoulders and thrust out his chin, ignoring the murmurs rising from the Slytherin table as he sat down on the stool. McGonagall placed the hat on his head and it fell over his eyes.

_Curious, very curious_

Oh! He could hear it talking to him!

A low chuckle sounded in his head, but it wasn’t his own. _Of course you can hear me, silly boy. Now, let’s see here. I’ve never had a Black not want to be in Slytherin before._

Please don’t, he thought frantically.

_Don’t work yourself into a dither. You do have plenty of cunning, but it’s not the house for you. Smart enough, but not your priority, no, I can see that. You’re capable of great loyalty, but not a Hufflepuff I think. Bravery, now that you have in spades, my boy. Better be -_

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The hat was lifted from his eyes and he sat in stunned silence for a beat before scrambling to his feet and walking with all the dignity he could muster through his growing excitement to the table swathed with red and gold. He vaguely watched the rest of the students sorted, but his mind was racing too fast to focus on much at all.

He was joined at the empty first year section by a Lily Evans, where they sat side by side in silence, both a bit fidgety and twitchy. A long string of students went to other houses before they were joined in quick succession by Remus Lupin, Alice Macmillan, Marlene McKinnon, and Dorcas Meadowes.

When the four were seated and the next first year went to Hufflepuff, Sirius quipped, “well apparently Gryffindor has dibs on the middle of the alphabet this year.”

The others stared at him for a moment before they all broke out in giggles, quickly unable to stop. McGonagall shot them a warning look and they quieted quickly, but continued shooting smiles at one another, tension broken.

Lily leaned over to him, whispering “why was there such a commotion when you were sorted? That hasn’t happened for anyone else?”

Digging his fingernail into the wooden top, Sirius didn’t look at her. “Was there? I didn’t notice.” She bumped his shoulder with hers and he sighed. “I’m what they call a pure blood wizard. Big ole’ family tree at my house tracing every branch and every person through history. Masters of the dark arts!” he exclaimed, imitating his father’s voice. Lily covered a laugh behind her hand. “Every one of the lot has been in Slytherin.”

“But not you.”

“Not me. I’m not like them,” he insisted, accidentally inflecting it with all the posh arrogance he had been trained to always speak with.

“Potter, James.”

Speaking of posh, he thought. He considered cheering, but held off, fingers cross James also got Gryffindor.

The hat didn’t deliberate long, barely covering brown eyes before, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Sirius jumped to his feet cheering louder than the rest of the Gryffindor table and James came running over, pulling him into a rough hug. Startled he froze, before wrapping his arms around James a bit awkwardly, but with enthusiasm. _My first hug,_ he thought. James sat on his other side, demanding all of Sirius’ attention, but not before Sirius saw Lily roll her eyes and turn to the other girls, striking up a conversation of her own.

The rest of the feast flew by in a whirlwind of laughter and good food, and soon enough a Gryffindor prefect was ushering the first years out of the Great Hall and showing them the way to the tower. The common room was warmer than anywhere in Sirius’ house had ever been, lush carpets on the floor with plump sofas and chairs gathered around a massive, crackling fireplace.

The girls split off and headed up one staircase as the boys were led up another and shown their room. Sirius had never shared a room before, but he thought it might be kind of fun. James threw an arm over his shoulder and Sirius startled, flinching at the unexpected contact.

“Whoa, alright there mate?”

“Yeah, fine. Which bed do you guys want?” he asked generally, trying to be polite since he knew his mother would hate it. She would have encouraged him to take the first pick, that it was his right, that he should claim the best. But in for knut, in for a sickel; if he was going to shed his family’s legacy might as well go big. Plus, he really wanted to have friends for the first time in his life.

Remus moved silently to the first bed to the right of the door, pushing the worn trunk the house elves had brought up to the foot of it. Looking to James, Sirius pushed his own next to Remus, and James his next to Sirius, leaving little Peter Pettigrew closest to the loo.

Sirius trailed his fingers over every surface in wonder. From the red drapes and bedspread, to the wooden nightstand, everything was precious and new. Everything felt warm and _safe._ It dawned on him that he could ask anything. He could say what he thought.

“James, I did it,” his voice was reverent, hushed and fragile in the precious newness of it all.

“Sure did. Now come play Gobstones with me. Remus? Peter?”

The four boys settled into the middle of the floor, playing late into the night despite their exhaustion, barely collapsing into their own new beds before they were asleep. They quickly became fast friends, eating every meal together, sitting together in class, and taking turns daring one another to complete this joke or that. He was sure that Remus at least noticed the way he always sat away from the fire stokers in the common room, and James learned to take care to warn him before touching him, but none of them took the piss for it.

Days fed into weeks, and time passing by in a blur of the happiest Sirius had ever been in his life. All too soon he found himself on the train again, headed home for winter holidays. Bounding off the train he had an arm thrown over Remus’ shoulders, the other hand pelting James with the nasty flavoured beans they had collected, when he saw his mother standing waiting for him.

He knew that expression all too well, felt the ice in his stomach to match the cold in her glare, fearful of the unspoken punishment awaiting him.

“Sirius?” Remus asked, voice laced with concern. It broke the trance, snapping Sirius back to his surroundings. Without a word, he withdrew his arm from Remus and slowly made his way to his mother. He threw one last backwards glance at his friends before his arm was gripped too tightly and he was disapparated away.

Disoriented, head reeling, Sirius didn’t even see the blow coming before he was backhanded, sent sprawling on the cold marble floors of 12 Grimmauld Place.

“GRYFFINDOR?!” she yelled, aiming a kick at his ribs.

He yelped, rolling to get to his feet before she could do it again.

“ _Petrificus Totalus.”_

His body went rigid, only his eyes able to look around, breathing shallow despite his attempts to take in great heaping gasps. He fought down the panic rising in him as he was levitated to the kitchen and dropped unceremoniously on the ground. The spell was hardly countered when ropes sprang to life, wrapping around his limbs and dragging him backwards. He fought back, despite knowing that it was futile. The charmed ropes had him bound to a chair in no time and once again his mother was in his face.

“Who are you?”

He hesitated, confused by the question. Who was he? Did he know? Why was she asking? He took too long and her hand struck his cheek again.

“A Gryffindor.” The word rose unbidden, but as soon as he said it he felt warmth in his chest of the rightness. That’s who he was. And that’s where he’d be when he figured out the rest.

She hit him with a stinging hex.

“You are the heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. You are a pure blood. I don’t know how you ended up in the wrong house, but I have been informed it is irreversible. Though I have half a mind to pull you from the school altogether.”

The air left Sirius’ lungs faster than when she had kicked him. _No,_ she couldn’t. He couldn’t leave Hogwarts, he couldn’t leave his friends!

He flinched as violently as he could within the restraints of the ropes that bound him when she picked up a knife from the counter. “What the fuck is happening with your hair?” She grabbed a handful of his long black hair and sheared it off roughly. “Do they have no one at that mudblood loving school now who can keep you looking like a decent young man? All the years I pour into grooming you into a suitable heir, down the drain in the name of education?” Another handful of the hair he adored, shorn off.

He knew that his mother knew the spells to cut his hair properly, this was just another way of stripping him of everything he had become. He held his head high, refusing to let the tears fall that burned in his eyes. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how helpless it made him feel to not even be able to protect this little thing.

“Who were you _touching_ on the platform?” she spat the word, as if disgusted at even the thought of contact with another human.

“My friends.” Sirius knew better than to give her their names. She would figure it out if she really wanted to, but he wouldn’t be the one to give her the information.

She held his mouth pinched between her fingers, unheedful of the long pointed nails digging into his cheeks. “You are a pureblood heir, and you will act like one. You are forbidden from interacting with anyone of lesser origins, and there will be grave consequences for every misdeed, starting now.”

With the wave of her wand, his tongue was glued to the top of his mouth so that he couldn’t even scream through the pain. Every inch of his body felt like the skin was raw, too hot, too exposed. Through it all she continued to scream profanities, reminders of who he was. Finally, his tongue fell loose again. Walburga was breathing hard, her face as purple as her robes. “Who. Are you?” she demanded through grit teeth.

Hanging limply against the ropes, Sirius lifted his head to look her in the eye, feeling the slow trickle of blood down the side of his face from where her signet ring had cut him. “A Gryffindor,” he barely croaked, clinging desperately to his defiance and identity.

She screamed, sparks and hexes flying the last thing he remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments, I look forward to hearing more of your thoughts!  
> ~shadow_prince


	3. Chapter 3

_Baby I’ve been here before_  
_I’ve seen this room, I’ve walked this floor_  
_I used to live alone before I knew ya_  
_I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch_  
_But love is not a victory march_  
_It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah_

 

⟡

 

If there’s one thing that Grimmauld Place is good for, it’s the library, filled with its multitude of books, a great number of which are on topics he otherwise wouldn’t have access to. It’s also one of the few places that Sirius is allowed, and encouraged, to be and can remain without interruption for whatever period of time he so chooses. He’d even become adept at identifying which books are too dangerous to touch - not that he would ever admit such a thing to James, but James has no idea just how dark and dangerous books can really be.

It did not escape his sense of amusement or irony though, that he was using his prejudicial and bigoted, dark art loving family’s library to research werewolves for the sake of identifying whether his best friend was one, rather than for the purpose of how to, say, _kill_ one. Nevertheless, he used it to his advantage, earning praise at the dinner table for his extensive research on dark beasts, and any edge he can gain to not incur more beatings than he already earned is seized upon. His mother swirled red wine idly in her crystal glass, watching him closely as he recited the symptoms of lycanthropy from memory.

“Perhaps you can still be of use, despite your unfortunate placement,” she mused.

It was a relief to return to school for second year. After a summer locked up in 12 Grimmauld Place without access to an owl and all letters coming in strictly monitored and destroyed before Sirius could get to read them, he was desperate. Funny how someplace he had spent less than a year in felt more like _home_ than his ancestral house ever had.

After all his independent research he was confident that his and James’ speculation was correct. However, the matter still remained of how to _tell_ Remus that he knew he was a werewolf. From the way the other boy guarded the secret so close to his chest, he knew better than to think it would be an easy conversation, and didn’t entirely put it past Remus to up and disappear from school altogether when approached about it. It had taken ages to get Remus to be friends with him at all, and he didn’t want to risk anything that would put that relationship in jeopardy.

As he lay awake at night, propped up against his footboard, the drapes thrown open so that he could stare out the window, he considered what a life without Remus would look like and shuddered. Under the warm rays of the sun, he was confident that everything would work itself out. That he would find a way to tell Remus he knew and that it was alright, that he still wanted him around. But under the midnight cloak of darkness, those _what ifs_ crept in, threatening to rip the rug out from under his feet of the sanctuary he had built here, in this dorm.

“Alright there, Sirius?”

A soft whisper startled him from his nightmarish musings. Blinking owlishly, he regarded Remus in the bed next to him. He was propped up on his elbow, hair much shorter than it had been last spring. His mum must’ve cut it over the summer. Even in the dim light from the crescent moon, spilling in through the window wanely, Sirius could see a new scar on the other’s shoulder where the neck of his shirt had slipped too low.

Rather than answer, Sirius climbed out of bed, softly padding over to Remus’ and climbing under the covers next to him. They did this on occasion, when one had nightmares or was too cold from the drafty tower in winter. Laying next to him on the pillow, Sirius reached out hesitantly, tracing a fingertip over the newest scar.

Remus froze, holding his breath, his eyes wide and wary. Grabbing Remus’ hand, he extended one of the boys fingers, pushing his hair back and running Remus’ finger over the scar that he knew lay at his temple near his hairline. The only reason Walburga had allowed him to grow his hair out again was that it covered several of the scars she had left on his pale skin.

Wary and afraid shifted to worry as Remus’ eyes danced across Sirius’ face, searching for Sirius wasn’t sure what. Next Sirius pushed up the sleeve of his shirt, exposing a large shiny patch of skin, remnants of a burn from the fireplace poker when he had asked one too many unapproved questions.

He ignored the look of pity on Remus’ face, instead saying, “I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re my best friend, you know that right?”

Remus swallowed but nodded hesitantly.

Taking a deep breath, he decided it was now or never. “I know that your scars are different than mine.” Next to him Remus froze again, more prey than the hunter the rest of the world believed him to be, but Sirius gripped his hand tightly and pressed on. “I know how you got them, and you are my best friend. I will do _anything_ to keep you here where you belong.”

Amber eyes watched him fearfully, but Sirius just snuggled further down under the covers, still holding his hand. “Really?” he asked, finally, hesitantly.

“Not going anywhere, Moony.”

From then on after, Sirius made a ritual of full moon nights, spent sitting in the window of the tower that looked out over the Whomping Willow, the Shack in the distance. He stayed awake the whole night, keeping watch, in solidarity of his friend. Sometimes he would study, or read one of Remus’ books. Sometimes he just sat and stared out over the grounds, toward the Forbidden Forest and the Shack. He sat there until he saw Pomfrey escorting Remus to the hospital wing after moonset. As soon as they entered the castle, he would make the long walk to the hospital wing alone, stone scuffling below his feet.

The first several months he did this, Madame Pomfrey tried to turn him away, but by the start of fourth year she had long since given up and was no longer even surprised when he walked in through the arched doors. Usually Remus walked beside her, wrapped in his robes and occasionally a blanket or cloak. Occasionally he leaned heavily on her, limping as she helped support his weight after a particularly rough night.

The Marauders had been making a lot of progress on the Animagus project - but not fast enough in Sirius’ opinion. The full fell on Hallowe’en, creating a heated debate between James and Sirius regarding his refusal to attend the party in favour of his vigil.

Irritated, James finally exclaimed, “you can’t _do_ anything from the window, Sirius, what’s the point? Come have fun for a bit and it’ll help take your mind off it.”

“Fuck off, James. I’m not going to the stupid party.”

He didn’t wait for the rebuttal he was sure on the tip of James’ tongue, turning and storming off in a fit of nerves and anger. Climbing into the window, he stared out at the full where it hung heavy in the cloudless sky. A perfectly round orb of golds and blood reds against a backdrop of ink black. His mind was too full of worry to focus on anything, so he simply kept watch through the feeling of foreboding.

No matter how frequently he told himself that there was nothing different about this night, that a full on Hallowe’en didn’t actually mean anything, that the colour was just that time of year, it did nothing to quell the anxiety simmering in his stomach like a bubbling cauldron.

It felt like years rather than hours before it finally began its descent. The moon dipped lower until it brushed the horizon, the sun rising to chase it away and bring a new day. Sirius saw Pomfrey hurrying across the frosted grass, cloak wrapped tight around her as she disappeared into the tunnel below the Whomping Willow. He began counting in the back of his mind, ticking down the seconds within each minute of the time it usually took until Remus emerged. Of course, it varied, but as the numbers climbed, so did Sirius’ sense of dread.

A flash of silver was the first thing to catch his eye; a dove patronus came soaring out from under the Willow, flying at breakneck speed for the castle. Sirius sat bolt upright, face pressed to the glass, hardly daring to breathe. It was several more minutes before Pomfrey emerged, levitating Remus before her.

Sirius took off running, flying through arches, shoulder brushing stone on turns he took too quickly, nearly losing his footing on smooth marble floors. When he finally rounded the corner to the hospital wing, he slowed to a stop, staring at the closed doors in fear of what answers lay beyond.

He approached slowly, resting his hand on the worn wood that he had entered through so many time before, before finally pushing through again. The far bed, where Remus always lay, was not curtained off as usual. Instead the view was blocked by Pomfrey, Slughorn, and Dumbledore himself, all three working furiously on the small charge lain between them.

He held perfectly still, not daring to move lest he be noticed and sent away, Sirius watched with silent promises on his tongue of all the things in the world he would forsake just for Remus to be all right. Not for the first time, he wished it were him. Him that bore the brunt of those claws and teeth. He knew what it was to withstand pain and would take it two-fold if it meant that Remus didn’t have to.

He stayed there until Dumbledore stood back, shoulders moving beneath his robes in a great heaving sigh. He touched Pomfrey’s arm, whispering low, before turning to leave. Catching sight of Sirius, he regarded him through half-moon spectacles.

“How long have you been there, then, Mr. Black?”

“Since you brought him in.” Licking his lips, Sirius hesitated, looking back and forth between the bed at the other end of the room and the wizard before him. “Is… is he alright?”

“He will be.”

A gasping sob he hadn’t realised he’d been holding back broke free from his chest. Dumbledore rested a hand on his shoulder then directed him toward the bed. Sirius jogged forward, unable to keep away a second longer now that he had permission and reassurance.

“Just be careful,” Pomfrey urged, scrubbing tears from her face with the edge of her robe. “He won’t wake for a while, deep sleep draughts and all that.”

Sirius nodded, pulling a chair as close as he could get. He threaded his fingers through Remus ice cold ones and watched his chest rise and fall, shallow but steady, constant proof that he yet lived. “Thank Merlin,” Sirius whispered to no one at all. Bent forward, he buried his face in the blanket and allowed himself to break, his tears to flow unseen until he fell asleep, half on the chair and half on the bed with Remus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last of my chapters for a bit, I turn you over to the incredibly capable hands of my partner in crime <3
> 
> Thanks for reading! Love reading all your comments (:  
> ~shadow_prince


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the problem child's turn at things. ;)

_There was a time when you let me know_  
_What was going on below_  
_But now you never show it to me do ya?_  
_Remember when I moved in you_  
_And the holy dove was moving too_  
_And every breath we drew was Hallelujah_

 

⟡

 

Sirius stepped into an empty compartment on the train and closed the door, falling against it with a sigh.  Every bone in his lithe frame creaked with the effort, every muscle fiber screaming out in sheer agony.  It had been days since the newest round of ‘reeducation,’ but it still felt as if his limbs were being pulled in all directions, to the point of nearly ripping at the seams.

Christmas break could not end quickly enough.  Word had gotten back to his mother about his _supposed_ cavorting with various half-blood and muggle-born witches in their year, and she’d gone even further off the deep end than usual.  Baseless lies, of course, but that didn’t matter.  In her mind, he was guilty simply by besmirched reputation alone and thus needed reminding of what it meant to be the heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.

Shuffling over to the bench, he sat down with a slight wince.  The backs of his legs still bore the worst of the visible marks, hidden from view by the thick robes he’d arrived dressed in for convenience sake.  It wouldn’t do for him to go dropping his trousers carelessly and showing his mates the wrath of Walburga Black while it was still fresh.  He didn’t want their questions, and certainly not their pity.  Those were better placed elsewhere, reserved for someone who needed it more.

Glancing out the window, Sirius watched listlessly as the happy families gave the last of their tear-filled goodbyes, knowing all too well that his would never waste time on such drivel and nonsense.   _It’s not the pureblood way_ , a voice sneered in his mind.  That fact had been made more than clear to him by the young age of four.

Soon after his arrival, the other three finally joined him, raucous laughter filling the small compartment with warmth and light.  James boasted a brand new broom he’d gotten that would be sure to turn a few heads during the upcoming Quidditch matches, a certain red-headed witch in their year a hopeful among them.  Peter had only very narrowly escaped another holiday trapped with his Gran and her sour old housecat Barney, and was practically bouncing with excitement as he told the lot of them about the trip to France he’d taken with his mum.  Even Remus appeared refreshed and happy, cheeks dusted a gentle pink and smile soft as he munched away on a chocolate frog and flipped pages in his book.

“What about you, mate?”

Three curious faces were eagerly turned his way by the time Sirius looked up from his assessment of a small hole in the dark fabric over his knee.  “Hm?”

James’ crooked smile faltered for a split second before he plastered it on wider.  “What did you do over the holiday? You didn’t send a letter this time, so I assumed you must have been busy or something.  Off on some grand adventure?”

“Just the usual,” Sirius replied evasively, shifting in his seat so that he had a better view of the rolling white hillside sparkling like diamonds in the lavender-streaked twilight.  Despite the below freezing temperature of the glass, he leaned his temple against it, the vibrations from the train soothing the worst of his chaotic thoughts.  “Nothing much to mention.  Sorry, chaps.”

James didn’t miss a beat, steering the conversation someplace safer before the lightness of the mood was entirely ruined by his blatant lack of enthusiasm.  “So, Pete.  About that girl you met on your trip.  Tell us everything.”

The mousy boy perked right up, puffing out his chest with pride as he prattled on about things Sirius couldn’t bother himself to listen to further.  

“Alright, Sirius?” Remus asked quietly from the seat across from his.  

Flicking his gaze over, he noted the look of trepidation on the werewolf’s handsome face.  

“Just feeling a bit knackered, is all,” he replied without an ounce of conviction to back it up with.  

That didn’t stop the other from playing along, nodding his head like he might believe it.  “I’ve a pepper-up potion on me, if you’d like,” Remus informed him as he reached into the satchel at his side to fetch the thing.  “What with the full just a couple of days ago.  But I’ll be fine without, if you need it.”

“Think I’ll actually have a nap.  Didn’t sleep well.  Wake me when we get in?”

Sirius hadn’t failed to catch the flash of concern dancing through amber eyes as he turned his own stormy ones back to the snowy landscape, allowing the soft hum of the tracks to lull him into a sporadic and flimsy sleep.

* * *

It started out small.  Just a slight tickle in the back of his mind, a pinprick of darkness on an otherwise pristine white page.  Easy to ignore if he didn’t dwell on it too hard or too long, which wasn’t too difficult, all things considered.  Between classes and study sessions, pulling elaborate pranks and narrowly escaping getting caught by Filch and Mrs. Norris on the nights they snuck out after curfew for a snack from the kitchens, he was nearly able to forget everything that had transpired over Christmas break.  Nearly, but not quite near enough.

Some days were harder than others.  When nightmares plagued him relentlessly, he’d often wake with a start, wrapped in the sheets and drenched in a cold sweat, eyes blown wide as he stared out into the harrowing blackness of the quiet room.  Sinister shadows gazed back from the corners of his four poster, arms reaching out at him from the darkness, unable to move away for fear of summoning the demons closer.

For hours afterward, he’d find himself unable to calm, heart hammering against the confines of his ribcage like a scared bird attempting to take flight.  It wasn’t until the hints of red-gold dawn crept their way through the cracks left in the hangings, chasing away the remnants of evil still clinging to his world, that his heavy eyelids would finally droop and inevitably slip shut, allowing yet another fitful sleep to claim him.

_“Crucio!”_

Torrents of scalding water trickled their way down his back, but he couldn’t feel the sting.  It wasn’t just his body that was numb to the sensation.  His mind was trapped in that cold cellar once more, writhing in misery on the dirt-caked cement as wave after wave of electrical current ricocheted from the tip of his crown down to the bottoms of his feet.

_“You are nothing but a shame to this family.  A useless child.  Filthy little blood-traitor.  I should lock you up for good.  Crucio!”_

The soft pitter-patter of the faucet’s spray battering the tiles in the shower room wasn’t enough to fully drown out the memory of his screams, stuck as they were inside his eardrums.  If he could claw them out by sheer force of will, he wouldn’t hesitate for a second.

Haunting wails weaved their way through the ambient noise all around, a cacophony of tormented cries piercing the fragile grasp he had left on his sanity until it threatened to shatter completely.  A sob escaped its way past clenched teeth as his head lolled back, kissing the smooth surface of the wall with a quiet thunk.

“Sirius?”

The hesitation in Remus’ tone cut through the remnants of fog in his mind, grey eyes opening slowly and flicking over to the place the voice had originated.  Rivulets of water dripped from his scalp and down his cheeks, pooling on his lashes until he blinked them away like tears.

“Sirius.  If you don’t hurry you won’t be able to make breakfast.”

“I’ll be out in just a moment, Rem,” he replied in a weak monotone, throat constricting around every word he spoke.  Shifting his weight forward, a sharp knife cut into his spine as he hugged his knees up closer to his chest.  “Go on ahead without me.”

“Are you sure?  I don’t mind waiting for-”

“No,” he insisted with a touch more vehemence than was originally intended, snapping his mouth shut to stop it from betraying him further.  Swallowing down the urge to apologize, he huffed a breath through his nose and tried again.  “I’ll be there soon.”

The silence stretched on so long afterward that he was certain the other had left.  Tendrils of steam swirled through the air, rising up to the high ceiling and obscuring everything from view.  Within minutes, his world would be a wash of pure, blinding white.

“Alright.  I’ll save you something to eat.  Come down whenever you’re ready.”

Sirius’ hands didn’t stop their trembling for some time.

* * *

The remainder of the school year passed in the blink of an eye, in a way it only could for someone who dreaded each minute steadily blurring into the next.  As the first breath of spring slipped its warmth into the breaks in icy rainfall, the snow on the mountains in the distance steadily melting into lush greenery and budding wildflowers, it grew ever harder to suppress the darkness that festered in his thoughts like a disease.  By the start of summer, it was close to suffocating him.

Sirius was sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall the evening before they were scheduled to board the train for home, staring down blankly at his empty plate.  Surrounded as he was by hundreds of other people, he’d never felt so alone in his life.

Excited chatter floated around the room, talk of the long weeks soon to be spent gallivanting about and the promises between friends to write one another as much as possible making up the majority of conversation.  Despite the warm feeling of cheer buzzing through the air, something colder had already locked itself deep in his chest, spreading through his bloodstream like shards of crystalline ice.

“Sirius?”

Glancing up, blurry grey eyes locked themselves onto concerned hazel ones, the bespectacled boy across from him hesitating momentarily as his brow furrowed in thought.  Two other pairs soon glued themselves to his face, varying degrees of worry clearly etched in the tight lines of their smiling mouths.

“Everything all right, then?” James finally asked, never one to back down from a challenge, even when it came to the more sensitive of subjects.  “You’ve been quiet all day.  All week, for that matter.  It isn’t like you.”

“S’fine,” he replied, more to himself than the other three.  Perhaps if he said it aloud enough times, it might help make it true.

James skittered his gaze from him to the boy at his side, snapping back after a brief pause and shared pointed look.  “Are you certain?  You know you can talk to us about anything.  You don’t have to face it alone.  We’re here.”

“I said I’m fine,” Sirius reiterated, this time with a touch more bite.  Rising to his feet, he carefully avoided the hand that reached out to try and comfort him, pretending not to notice the glimmer of sadness flickering through amber eyes.  “I have some things to take care of before bed.  If you’ll excuse me.”

Turning on his heel, he charged off without so much as a second glance back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the first of my part of the collaboration. Hope it wasn't too much of a culture shock.  
> Comments and kudos keep this writer well sated, so go ahead and leave some.<3  
> xoxo  
> ~SlytherinSweetheart


	5. Chapter 5

_Maybe there's a god above_  
_But all I've ever learned from love_  
_Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya_  
_And it's not a cry that you hear at night_  
_It's not somebody who has seen the light_  
_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

 

⟡

 

Sirius found himself slipping further into the darkness.  Piece by insurmountable piece, his insides whittled away until there was nothing but cold, brittle emptiness.  

It shone darkest in the curve of his smile.  The sharp bark of too harsh laughter.  The lilt of his tone and the stumbling hesitancy in his step.  While his features were hardly different from the boy who first dared to dream of something bigger than his parent’s expectations, the young man reflected back at him whenever he caught a brief glance into the mirror was slowly becoming the shadow of his former self.  A cheap imitation filling in for a ghost.

Despite his best attempt to play it off as inconsequential, someone else noticed the change.  He felt it there in the silences that held a bit too much weight to be referred to as companionable.  In the increasingly knowing looks, lingering a second too long after all other eyes had turned away.  Sirius was desperately attempting to hold his pieces together with a fumbling grasp, pasting temporary fixes onto permanent cracks, all the while ignoring the billowing smoke rising up from the ruins left burning in his wake.

Remus understood that feeling better than anyone.

The Gryffindor common room was raucous and bursting with sound.  Students of all ages packed themselves wherever space allowed, piled high on the couches or hanging off the ends of armrests, listening with bated breath while stories of past shenanigans were recounted by the light of a crackling fire.

James Potter was master of the spoken word.  A silver-tongued spinner of tales so illustrious and witty that it was hard to see how the hat sorted the boy under the Lion’s banner at all.  Even those who’d been present for the execution of the prank and knew the shoddy details were captivated by his grand retelling of the events, eyes blown wide with wonder and smiles stretched so far it had to hurt.

“And then the bomb went off and it was utter chaos.  People scattered like their lives depended on it.  Any and every direction they could to get away from the putrid stench.”

Sirius, too, sat nearby, arm flung over the back of a small loveseat as he listened to the tale, lips quirked into the faintest of smirks.  Two faceless fifth-year birds had snuggled up against his chest at some point during the evening, one on either side, fighting each other for the attention he wasn’t soon to give.  As it stood, he was far too tired to tell them off, raw nerves wrapped over bone, thin enough to break.  It was easier to simply ignore their jealous pouts and cold glares.  Aloof.  Mysterious.  Ever the illustrious playboy.

“Peeves flew high above the discord, pelting the escaping students with blasts of icy water, laughing maniacally all the while.  McGonagall nearly lost her shite trying to calm the place down and return the order.”

Amber orbs stole the occasional glance his direction, the only pair not locked onto the bespectacled boy lounging in the armchair closest to the roaring flames.  Just as they couldn’t help wandering over out of growing concern for the stranger steadily impersonating their best friend, he couldn’t help but avoid returning those looks at all costs.

“It took a good thirty minutes for the first years to be rounded up and ushered back toward their respective houses.  A few stragglers were discovered later that evening by the prefects, trapped on the revolving staircase screaming their heads off.”

James’ sonorous voice was but a buzz in the background noise of his thoughts, while every glance from Remus twisted daggers straight into his gut.  Each heavy gaze was another chink in his armor.  Another fracture in the perfect mask of complacency he’d fitted over the grimace permanently glued to his face.  If the boy only knew how much it hurt to pretend, how hard he had to struggle to stay afloat while lost in the endless sea of nothingness.  Surely he’d get dragged beneath the undertow and drown right along with him.

So he ignored the urge.  Bit it back.  Stitched another smile in place over a mouth caught halfway between regret and grim determination.  The only time he felt truly at ease was in animagus form.  Without constraints, without the pressures that accompanied a human life.  Padfoot was his one means of escape from the voices that plagued his mind incessantly, ripping apart all logic and crumbling the remaining bits of his sanity into dust.

Wind whipped through his shaggy mane as he bounded across the frost-hardened earth, icy fingers brushing along the shell of his ears, perked for the telltale sign of pursuit.  The muscles of his legs ached slightly with each great push, clawed feet digging into the soil, kicking up the remnants of dead grass still clinging to the ground with a futile grasp.

Even amidst the harsh chill of late winter, the forest hummed with life, sights and sounds and scents swirling around, pulsing in time to the beat of the fragile heart thundering in his chest.  Sirius’ spirit soared as he raced through those trees as silent as a shadow, a blur of black smoke amidst the star-speckled backdrop of the forbidden forest, uncatchable to nearly anything that dared give chase.

It felt like joy again, like laughter, like hope; all of the things in life he lacked yet didn’t know how to reach out and touch.  Each intake of oxygen burning his lungs was the briefest taste of new salvation.  Each sweet exhale the promise of imminent change.

Despite the pain inflicted by his family for not adhering to their ideals, a small seed of light still shone brightly inside of him, shadowed by doubt and buried beneath layers upon layers of ice.  Throughout the years he’d learned to shed away burdens the way a reptile sheds old skin – in bits and fragments here and there – never quite quickly enough to stop new patches from growing back in their place.

As he ran through the forest, it didn’t matter.  Nothing could touch him, not when the milky caress of yellow-tinged moonlight guided his path high above.  His human mind might crumble to the despairing idea that nothing would drive away those demons forever.  Not once they became part of him, carved into the fabric of his being like wounds that refused to heal.

 _All good things must one day come to an end_.  

He’d never fooled himself into believing things could stay the same indefinitely.  Something in his fractured life was bound to give, sooner or later.  This wasn’t a fairytale.  He wasn’t going to be saved.  Happily ever after was nothing more than a hopeful child’s silly daydream.

Padfoot didn’t have those same burdens to bear.  For one night each month, he was free to let go of the spiraling darkness that sucked all colour from the world, blanketing everything it touched in soot and ash.  Come morning light, Sirius would no doubt find himself doubled over once more, racked with guilt over feeling some small joy at a time when his friend had to suffer the greatest.  For now, he allowed himself the pleasure of finally being capable of easing even an ounce of that pain.

The next morning Remus lay curled in on himself on the filthy mattress, appearing far smaller and underfed than his full height and healthy appetite should have allowed.  Numerous potions had been left out to help lessen his suffering before Madam Pomfry arrived, but his body still shook violently with lingering tremors, racked with shivers no warmth would quell.

Prongs and Wormtail parted ways with them at the entrance beneath the Willow when dawn finally broke through the tree line, turning in for the morning to await their return in the warmth and safety of the dorm.  The two had long since given up trying to bait Sirius to follow, glued as he was to the boy like a silent guardian, adamant about ensuring he was safe and sound until the healer could reach him. 

If it wouldn’t have been odd to find both boy and dog curled up together in a room locked tight to prevent escape, he wouldn’t have left at all before it was time for Remus to return to the castle.

“Pads,” came a croak from somewhere to his left, and he answered with a thump of his tail as he shifted closer, daring to share the same space under the guise of innocent comfort.  Arms encircled him as fingers curled into his hair, gentle yet urgent, desperate and frightened in the post-shift haze.  “Padfoot.  Thank you,” the boy mumbled against his throat, burrowing his face into a thick, black coat and huffing a soft sigh of relief.  “Stay just a little while longer?”

Closing his eyes against the horrible ache, Sirius leaned into the touch, reminding himself it was all he could do.  In this form alone, he was still able to provide _something_ for the other to grasp hold of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. We had a clear weekly chapter update going and I buggered that with my inability to do anything on time. Whoops.  
> Hopefully the delicious angst made up for it. ^^
> 
> As always, comments and kudos keep me sated.<3
> 
> xoxo  
> ~SlytherineSweetheart


	6. Chapter 6

_You say I took the name in vain_  
_I don't even know the name_  
_But if I did, well, really, what's it to you?_  
_There's a blaze of light in every word;_  
_It doesn't matter which you heard,_  
_The holy, or the broken Hallelujah_

 

⟡

It was a rare occurrence when the halls of 12 Grimmauld Place were truly graced with his presence.  Bathed in the soft yellow moonlight spilling through the window at his back, Sirius slipped through the darkness like a shadow, careful not to step any of the places the old floor might let out a creak.

Voices sounded from the parlor room below, angry murmurs floating up in a garble of half-recognizable syllables that may or may not have formed coherent thought.  For the most part, he deemed them inconsequential, carrying on down the hallway silent as a mouse.  The one that finally dragged his attention away from his pursuit was the bark of his name, shot past Walburga’s lips like a curse she couldn’t help but spit vehemently.

Veering off course from the library, he crept toward the landing with bated breath, straining to hear just what was being discussed in the middle of the night.

“-needs _structure_ before he embarrasses this family further.  Do you know what they are saying about us behind our backs?  That our line is forfeit.  We’re no better than those muggle-loving _Weasleys._ Even Regulus cannot hope to save our good name if we don’t _fix this now_.”

“And what would you have me do,” came his father’s tired reply, exasperated from having to deal with his wife’s nonsense.  “Lock him up and throw away the key?  Denounce him publicly and strip him of all titles just because the boy has made a few unsavory decisions in his life?  We are Blacks, Walburga.  Our noble line cannot be brought to ruin by one petulant youth in a fleeting rebellious phase.”

“But high society-“

“That is enough,” Orion bellowed, so loud he felt the vibrations in the railing beneath his white-knuckled grip.  “I will hear no more of your womanly _gossip_.  What you choose to do behind closed doors is of no consequence to me.  Whip the child raw, for all I care.  But we will not go adding fuel to the fire because a bunch of bored housewives do not know when to hold their tongues in the presence of their betters.”

Silence followed the words for some time, long and harrowing as they sank into the inky darkness and disappeared.  Fear bubbled in his chest, but Sirius kept himself half-hidden in the shadow of the spiraling stairwell, determined to hear things out until his fate was better known.

“Kreacher,” Walburga finally snarled.  The loud pop of apparition signaled his arrival only seconds before a loud crash echoed through the house.  Sirius could only guess as to what had transpired, thankful he wasn’t the one on the receiving end of her fury this time.  “Useless, disgusting animal.  Fetch me some parchment.  I have a letter to send with the utmost urgency.”

It wasn’t until days later that he understood the full implications of what his mother had done.

Walburga was sitting at her spot at the dining table with her sons, lazily swirling a glass of aged red around in her hand, when Kreacher interrupted their meal with a letter for his mistress.  Once she had lifted it from the silver tray, he bowed low in apology, sneaking back out without a single word of explanation.

Unfurling the scroll with an air of disinterest, her steel-grey eyes swept down the page, skimming the contents to discern their importance.  A smile curled her lips toward the end, flicking her gaze up and zeroing in on her eldest child.  “It seems there’s good news to be had concerning you for the first time in ages.”

Regulus’ brow creased as he shot a puzzled glance his way, silently asking the same question already pooling on the tip of Sirius’ tongue.  Neither dared speak, in any case.  It was merely a verbalized musing that would be answered soon enough should they wait it out.  Not worth the risk of angering the woman by adding unnecessary commentary into the mix.

Walburga set the letter onto the table and sat back into her chair with enviable grace, taking a slow sip from her wine before next she spoke.  “Though it would seem Durmstrang is already too far beyond your reach, Beauxbatons has graciously agreed to take you in at the last minute thanks in part to your heritage on your grandmother’s side.”

Sirius blinked a few times perplexedly, mouth betraying his better judgement and voicing his confusion aloud.  “But… I go to Hogwarts.”

“Yes, and a clear mistake, on our part.  I should have done this the moment they refused to sort you like a proper Black, but it’s never too late to fix the damage you’ve caused.  There’s no advantage to associating with those who are beneath your upbringing, and as I cannot seem to get you to halt by _persuasion alone_ , this clean break from your frivolity was the most logical of choices.  It may not be the _best_ school around, but it will still get the job done well enough.  At least _they_ know better than to allow common riffraff to attend their institution.  I blame that oaf who has taken over Hogwarts for its unsavory decline in recent years.  For all that Beauxbatons may lack in… pureblood ideals, the school is still renowned for its excellence in academia as well as tiptop disciplinary measures to ensure complete modesty and obedience.  Two things you still sorely lack.  In time, you’ll come to understand what it means to be the heir to our most noble lineage.  No further harm shall be permitted to befall our proud name under this roof.”

The room went dead silent after her speech, the only sound a low whine from his brother accidentally scraping a fork across the plate.  Sirius’ hands had moved on their own to curl in his lap, but he tightened them further, biting the sensitive flesh of his palms with crescent moon indentations.

Walburga’s steely eyes bore into his coldly, the corners of her mouth quirked as she awaited his response.  It would be easy to shout.  Beg.  Scream.  Plead with the woman not to take away the last glimmers of freedom he’d scraped together as a reprieve from the endless darkness he called his own personal hell.  It would be so simple to lash out at her like she wanted him to do, break beneath the pressure and crumble away into dust.  Simple.  Like letting go.

Elegantly, and with far more composure than he truly felt, Sirius lifted his white flag to his lips and dabbed away the remnants of his meal.

“If I may be excused,” he drawled, indicating the plate that was and had for some time been licked clean of any hint of food.  Fitting, he thought, for a dog in boy’s clothing.  “I think I shall have a quick read up on my new school before bed.”

Regulus nearly spat his drink across the table in shock, spluttering quietly into the hand that flew up to cover his mouth, eyes blown wide and turned his brother’s way.  Even Walburga, who was typically adamant about scolding them for anything she deemed to be poor table manners, was too surprised to chastise her youngest’s lack of etiquette, brow furrowed gently as her icy, unwavering gaze burned into the stranger sitting where her eldest once sat.

No one expected Sirius to go quietly into the dark.  He had always been the one to fight each battle until beaten and bloody, broken and exhausted and crumpled on the floor.  It was in his nature to rebel against those confines and refuse to back down, taking whatever small victory he could muster by dragging his enemies right along with him.

But not this time.  It was his final masterpiece.  The ultimate act of defiance.  A complete refusal to do exactly as was expected of him, even if only in show.

Unable to do more than nod her head in agreement, Walburga watched silently as Sirius rose from his seat, expression as blank as cold stone.  Never once breaking eye contact, he set the napkin down onto the plate, tipping his head by way of polite departure and quietly left the room.  

The silence continued to seep into the empty spaces around the room long after both her children had disappeared.

Soft moonlight crept in through the crimson curtains over the window, splaying over the mahogany floor and lapping at his feet.  Sirius had sat on the edge of the bed for a few hours afterward trying to think of what he wanted to keep and what was worth giving up, but the answer seemed both puzzling and oddly fitting.

Nothing in that room was his.  Just a collection of junk, some of it kept to irritate his mother and others forced upon him under threat of another lashing should he try and turn it away.  That didn’t mean it was anything he needed.  Material possessions that held little fondness in the grand scheme of things.  His most important treasures in life had always been intangible, at best.

A knock sounded that pulled him from his musings, quieter than he’d expect possible, even for the lateness of the hour.  Before he had the chance to rise up to answer it, the door creaked open, revealing a disheveled looking Regulus still dressed in the outfit he’d worn to supper.

“What you said tonight was a lie,” the youngest Black challenged while charging past the threshold without waiting for an invitation.  The edges of his eyes were red and puffy, hands curled into fists as he came to stop just shy of his brother’s personal space, glaring up at him with orbs of cold steel too much like his own.  “You’re not actually going to Beauxbatons, are you.”

Sirius’ mouth twitched with displeasure.  “No.”

Despite his tone holding no ill will, Regulus recoiled from the word like it was a sudden backhand to the face.  Since the beginning of school and his fateful sorting, the cherub-faced boy who used to look up to him had grown more distant with each day that passed, nearly a stranger to him now after six long years of weighty silence.  Sirius had assumed there was no love left for him in his brother’s heart, curt as he was whenever they were forced to speak.  It would appear he was mistaken.

“When will you learn to grow up and stop all of this ridiculous nonsense,” Regulus asked after a heavy beat, expression flickering between rage and dismay.  “Are your stupid friends really so important to you?  You’ll throw away everything just so you don’t have to be parted from them for a second?”

Raking a hand through his hair, Sirius huffed out a tired sigh.  “I just can’t do it anymore, Reg,” he admitted truthfully.  “I won’t.  I was always fated to let everyone down.  And now I’m tired of attempting to live up to expectations I’ll never be able to meet.  Don’t want to meet, if I’m perfectly honest.  I’m just… I’m not like you.”

“Why are you always so selfish,” the younger boy seethed, teeth clenched and jaw trembling.  “Do you truly hate this family so much?”

“Reg,” he began in a gentle murmur, reaching out to console the other, only to have the hand slapped away before it could.  Whatever apology he’d formed shriveled on his tongue as the boy in front of him squared his shoulders in defiance.

“If you leave, there’s no coming back.  You know that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

Something softer stole across his grey eyes, a glimmer of the past buried beneath years of disappointment.  “Then stay.  Please, Sirius.  Be my older brother again.”

Sirius’ lips quirked up ever so slightly, more a grimace than a smile, despite his best effort.  “I’ll always be your brother.  No matter what.”

Regulus’ expression spasmed for a moment before becoming as unreadable and emotionless as marble.  Turning on his heel, he left without so much as a glance back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so completes my addition to this angst train. Hope it didn't destroy anyone too terribly. ^^  
> Sorry to all for the wait. I am never good with updates, but especially around the holidays. Happy Christmas and New Year to everyone!  
> Shadow_Prince will return for the next and final chapter. Probably quicker than I would ever be with an update. :3  
> Until then, leave some comments! <3  
> And   
> Will always write more things for kudos
> 
> xoxo  
> SlytherinSweetheart


	7. Chapter 7

_I did my best; it wasn’t much_   
_I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch_   
_I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you_   
_And even though it all went wrong_   
_I’ll stand before the Lord of Song_   
_With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah_

 

⟡

 

It had been years since Sirius had dared to climb out his window, but as soon as he did he was overwhelmed by the cleansing quality of the fresh air; not just that Grimmauld was stifling and heavy and old, but the sheer freedom of being out under the setting sun as the stars came out above his head set him free.

Night had for years been a double edged sword, something he dreaded for the sleep that wouldn’t come and the gharish visions that haunted him when it did, but also something that he cherished for the stolen moments of freedom spent running under moon and stars as Padfoot with his best friends. His only chance to be free from the crippling weight of all he was and all he would never be, the only time that being the Black heir didn’t wrap like chains around his neck, choking him and pulling him down until he hadn’t the strength to stand.

It was fitting, he thought, that the stars were the only ones to have his back tonight as he crept along the charcoal gables with only the clothes on his back and his wand tucked securely in his robes. Once he was past the wards guarding Grimmauld Place, he considered hailing the Knight Bus, but the weather was fine and he thought it unlikely his mother would set foot on the street herself, if she even bothered to come after him at all. He knew there was a chance that Regulus would alert her to his plan - that he already had, even - but the memory of that flickering of emotion, the redness in his eyes, made him inexplicably sure his brother wouldn’t breathe a word. A parting gift, he mused.

His walking was aimless, simply enjoying the sheer freedom of being able to. Perhaps he should have felt some sort of fear, or remorse, or unsurety of what the future held for him, but there was none of that. After all he had endured at the hands of his mother, what was there to fear when that was stripped away? When each hour, every moment, no longer held the threat of her particular brand of conversion therapy, it mattered little to him what the future held as long as there was still the promise of Hogwarts in September.

The night passed quickly in a blur of meandering streets and new, strange sights, until Sirius was suddenly greeted with the rising sun, unaware of how much time had passed him by while he walked. Seeking out a deserted alleyway, he quickly shifted into Padfoot before continuing to trot along until he found a park to curl up in a shady patch beneath a tree and sleep a while. He spent a few days this way, exploring London in dog form and begging for scraps from unsuspecting Muggles who found him too cute and well behaved to not indulge in sharing their lunch.

Standing on the bridge over the Thames in human form once again, he was staring wistfully at the pitch black water below, not even moonlight to light it’s surface, and thinking even it’s muddy, dirty depths might be cleaner than he and worth risking a bath, when a cat hopped up on the railing, blinking slowly and appraisingly at him from spectacle-circled eyes. He sighed, letting his head hang in defeat. “Caught, then am I, Minnie?” he asked lowly enough that hopefully no one passing would notice.

The cat gave a gravely meow of confirmation before leaping to the sidewalk and leading the way down a path toward a park. As Sirius entered, the lamps along the park’s path clicked out, one at a time, until Sirius was plunged into near total darkness, shrouded from the city lights by the tall trees. He felt rather than saw McGonagall shift.

“I have him, Albus.”

Albus Dumbledore stepped out from the thick shadows at the base of a clump of trees. “Mr. Black, that was quite the wild dog chase you’ve had us on.”

“It’s wild _goose_ chase,” Minerva corrected. Sirius doesn’t miss the twitch of Dumbledore’s lips.

“I’m not going back.” He thrust his chin out challengingly, fire rising within him despite his exhaustion from all his wandering. In fact, he felt more invigorated and _less_ boneweary than he could ever remember being.

The Headmaster approached them, surveying Sirius. “We are not here to return you to Grimmauld, but rather to the Potter’s. They have been worried sick since your disappearance and are willing to formally take on custody of you until your birthday in November, should you consent. You need not give your answer now, but you do need to come with us, if for no other reason than you have several wounds infected so severely I could sense them the moment you set foot in the park.”

“They’re not that bad…” he mumbled, tugging the sleeves of his dirty robes lower self-consciously.

McGonagall gave him a pitying look that bit at his pride, but Dumbledore’s was more thoughtful than belittling. “Perhaps you mean that you have had worse, but that does not mean these are not bad. If you will come along then, we should go before someone from your family finds you.” He held out his arm, and Sirius, with the fear of that possibility, grasped it tightly, preparing for the nauseating tug of his stomach as they disapparated.

His knees buckled as soon as his feet touched down on the Potter’s front lawn, vision swimming with swirls of black dots, most likely from the combined hunger and the injuries that had remained untreated after leaving Grimmauld he’s unsure how long ago. Supported between the two professors, head hanging limply, he stumbled up to the house, the doors of which were flung open before they even hit the front steps. Sirius expected it to be James, but the choked cry he heard was definitively not.

“Mr. Lupin, is the room ready for him?”

“Yes, sir. I can take him, Professor.”

McGonagall’s grip on his arm was replaced by a hand around his waist, his arm thrown over Remus’ shoulders before they continued their path up to the manor.

“Minerva, would you go notify the Potter’s that we’ve found him?” Dumbledore requested.

“They’re in the library,” Remus offered.

“Moons, what are you doing here?” Sirius asked, his words sounded slurred and muddy to his own ears.

“Worrying myself to death about you, you great berk.”

The headmaster chuckled at their exchange. “Maybe wait to scold him until we’ve gotten him properly cleaned up, hm?”

“Yes, Professor.”

They lowered him onto a bed and Sirius sighed in relief at the softness around him. “No sleeping yet, Mr. Black.”

“Sirius,” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Just Sirius.”

It was Remus who responded as he helped strip Sirius from his tattered and dirty clothes. “Keep your eyes open, Just Sirius,” he tried for humour, but his voice was lacking all it’s usual lightness. A pang of pain shot through Sirius’ chest - wasn’t this why he had kept it all as far from Remus as possible? He knew the darkness in him, the Black coursing through his veins would suck the light from his friends as surely as a black hole.

Dragging his heavy eyelids open, he struggled through slow blinks. His clothes were in a pile on the floor and Remus was staring down at him with concern. He reached out, as if to brush Sirius’ hair from his face, but stopped short when Mr. and Mrs. Potter, and Professor McGonagall came through the door in a flurry of hushed panic.

He’s cleaned, and examined, poked and prodded. Potions are dumped down his throat and infections from dark magic drawn by wand tip from various wounds smattering his body. The sun was beginning to rise outside the window by the time he was left alone, propped up against a pile of pillows as he slowly nibbled a piece of bread and sipped a glass of water. A clean tee shirt hung loosely from his shoulders smelling of fresh laundry, forest air, and a hint of chocolate that Sirius was positive had become a permanent scent of everything Remus owned.

The door creaked softly as it opened, disheveled brown curls the first to appear as Remus peeked in to see Sirius still awake. He stepped in, closing the door behind him and regarding Sirius with Merlin knows how many days worth of fear and unbridled pain writ across his features.

“How long?”

Sirius stared resolutely at his now empty hands. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“How long, Sirius?” Remus sounded tired, defeated, as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know… always?”

“We could have _helped,_ Sirius. You should have told us. It should never have come to this.”

“I never meant for you to get dragged into it… You have enough to worry about, I never wanted to be another problem-”

“Sirius!” The bed dipped as Remus crowded his space, crawling until he was balanced on his knees, hovering over Sirius, careful not to place any weight on him, but giving Sirius nowhere to look but at him. With painful tenderness he took Sirius’ face in his hands, cradling it and brushing his thumbs absently across the skin, as if unable to help it.

Amber eyes bored into him fiercely, completely at odds with the gentleness of his touch. “You. Are not a burden,” he said lowly, enunciating each word with careful purpose. “Do you hear me?”

Sirius nodded, unable to help the tears burning in his eyes.

“For one of the most brilliant wizards of our generation, you really are rather thick, aren’t you? Quite possibly the youngest to ever become an Animagus, and that gives you the duty to be the one to protect us all, does it?” They were both crying now, but Remus ignored it. “Who gave you the right to do everything to save me, but not let me do the same for you, Sirius Black?”

There was righteous anger burning in his eyes and Sirius couldn’t look away. “No one,” he choked out. “I’m sorry, Moony. I’m so sorry.”

Remus leaned down, pressing his lips to Sirius’. They had no contact other than their lips and Remus’ hands still gently cradling his cheeks but Sirius felt the entire world narrow to only those points, the kiss tasting of the salt of their tears. Water and fire, he was cleansed in a way none of their counter charms on his body had been able to. Burned from the inside out as he took the outpouring of love. For one time in his life, he took and he took and he took, all that Remus could give, one kiss after another filling every crack like a blessed Kintsugi. Golden light from this brilliant boy, and Sirius drunk deeply of it, positive that he would never be full but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

When Remus pulled back, it was too soon, though Sirius was positive any time would have been too soon. He watched as the other scrubbed roughly at his cheeks with the sleeve of his jumper. “Your family was absolute shit, but they’re in the past. We’re your family now, you hear me?”

“Yes,” he whispered, brushing the tears from his own cheeks, the skin chapped and painful.

“James, and the Potters, and myself, and Peter. You’ve got us, and we will _never_ let them hurt you again. You’ll heal, and eat all of Mrs. Potter’s amazing food, and we’ll go back for 6th and drive McGonagall crazy, and everything will be fine.”

“Stronger than ever before,” Sirius vowed. He even finds that he believed it a little bit.

“You should get some rest.”

“Stay?”

Remus climbed off him, pulling the blankets back and snuggling down next to him, careful not to jostle any of his bandages but threading their fingers together. “Always. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was literally no coming back from the angst train that SlytherinSweetheart took us all on, but I did my best. (And blame them for it being so long in coming, because I have been begging and threatening to get them to read this chapter all week)
> 
> Hope you liked it, thanks for sticking with us. Personally, very pleased to finally have gotten to do a collaboration with them like we've been claiming we would for the past two years.
> 
> xx shadow_prince


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